


Carousel

by MarianneGreenleaf



Series: Got My Foot Caught in the Door [12]
Category: The Music Man (1962), The Music Man - All Media Types, The Music Man - Willson
Genre: At the footbridge, Becoming The Mask, Courtship is the best ship, Dance of Romance, Defrosting Ice Queen, Edwardian era, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff with depth, Ladykiller In Love, Madison Park Pavilion, Outdoor Mischief, Passion vs Propriety, Pre-Relationship, Still a conman, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, gorgeous gowns, rumors and things, trouble with a capital t
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25037995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarianneGreenleaf/pseuds/MarianneGreenleaf
Summary: Harold Hill dances the Shipoopi with Marian Paroo. It's not the first time they've danced together, so why does he feel so dizzy and disoriented, like he’s circled a carousel one too many times? The counterpoint toChemistry.
Relationships: Harold Hill/Marian Paroo
Series: Got My Foot Caught in the Door [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1383457
Kudos: 1





	Carousel

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by an insight gleaned from the choreographers of the Goodspeed Opera House’s 2019 production of The Music Man: the Shipoopi is the part of the show where Harold Hill falls in love with River City.

_Round and round like a horse on a carousel we go_  
_Will I catch up to love? I could never tell, I know_  
_Chasing after you is like a fairytale, but I_  
_Feel like I’m glued on tight to this carousel_

_This horse is too slow_  
_We’re always this close_  
_And it’s all fun and games_  
_’Til somebody falls in love_  
_But you’ve already bought a ticket_  
_And there’s no turning back now_

_~Carousel, Melanie Martinez_

XXX

The Shipoopi was the first honest dance Harold Hill ever shared with Marian Paroo.

Of course, he’d danced with the librarian before: a mischievous romp in the library and a sedate waltz in the high school gymnasium. Or so the conman told himself about the latter encounter, even as his heart thumped like a bass drum and his body vibrated like the strings of a violin in a Vivaldi concerto as he held her in his arms. Even as he had to force himself not to sneak so much as a glance at Marian once he let her go and resumed conducting the boys afterward, lest he lose the thread of his concentration irretrievably. But when rehearsal finally ended and he caught her staring at him from all the way across the gym, he told himself that the sudden and intense urge to whisk her behind the bleachers and press his mouth and hips to hers was the usual spike of lust for a gorgeous woman and nothing more.

But mere lust couldn’t explain why Harold felt himself grinning so stupidly back at her when their eyes met, or why he felt the exuberance of a schoolboy who’d discovered his crush making eyes at him in return. Or why he felt the acute need to linger at the Paroo house after they'd said goodbye and stare up at her tower like Romeo pining for Juliet. He’d _never_ pulled such a sentimental stunt when chasing a gal he wanted – especially when he knew it was only a matter of time before the lady would succumb to his siren song.

As addled as Harold was that afternoon – and admittedly, still was – he thought Marian Paroo had been fooling him, that she was the sadder but wiser girl cleverly luring him in just as he sought to spin his webs of seduction around her. But merely twenty minutes ago, that theory had been thoroughly shattered – when she looked at him with clear, honest eyes and told him all about Uncle Maddy and the true nature of her relationship with him, the charlatan was knocked thoroughly off balance and hadn’t yet recovered his footing. His mind was already reeling from standing face to face with Marian and exchanging breathless looks of longing, so this revelation barreled into him like a freight train and never let up.

For the first time, he saw Marian Paroo as she truly was. Not who he thought she must be, based on what the local gossip claimed as to her character. Of course, he’d been all too happy to believe the sordid things those clucking hens intimated, since they played right into his fevered fantasies of the ideal woman for a no-strings-attached roll in the hay. But when it turned out this wasn’t the case at all, he still continued to want the librarian just as badly, even though she was everything he told Marcellus he _didn’t_ want in a woman. Still, there was just something so alluring in that there was absolutely no pretense with Miss Paroo. She was a golden, glorious, gleaming pristine goddess who, in the bliss of her maidenly ignorance, was on the verge of falling in love. With _him_.

Harold wasn’t sure why this idea terrified him so much. It wasn’t the first time that a gal had developed real feelings for him. But it _was_ the first time that having to break her heart really bothered him.

The conman hadn’t meant to get so swept up in the Shipoopi. As he watched Marcellus belt out the song with gusto, he’d been checking his pocket watch repeatedly, almost obsessively counting down the fifteen minutes until it was time to meet Marian at the footbridge. Now that he’d finally – finally! – gotten the hard-to-get librarian to agree to a romantic rendezvous, he ought to be making passionate love to her in the private alcove he’d selected for precisely that purpose, not whirling her around the Madison Park pavilion like a besotted teenager. Why was he wasting his precious hours left in River City _dancing_?

What’s worse, Harold was actually enjoying himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun. At first, he’d simply watched the proceedings from the sidelines with his usual jaundiced eye, ignoring the twinge of envy he’d felt to see Tommy and Zaneeta dancing so exuberantly in each other’s embrace and delighting in the knowledge that they had their whole lives ahead of them. It was much harder to deny the heated stab of jealousy that seared through him when he spotted Marcellus dancing just as happy and carefree with Ethel. How on earth had his old sidekick managed to finagle himself an honest place in this town? And if his former shill could do it, would it somehow be possible for him to… do the same?

Harold’s heart raced with an all-too-familiar anticipation as he pondered staying in River City for good. But his grand visions came crashing down around him once his rational mind caught up to his wild imaginings. Every conman eventually ran into a mark he couldn’t fool. Sooner or later, his scam would be discovered and they’d run him out on a rail – and they might just tar and feather him first! Because he was nothing but a street mountebank whose only stock in trade was pretty lies. He had nothing real to offer anyone here.

There was no place for Harold Hill in River City. He’d ruined his chances the moment he whipped up a moral panic about pool tables on the town green. But even so, he was tired of being a permanent outsider, tired of watching scenes of joy and merriment and life play out before him as he skulked about in the margins of existence. For once, he wanted to be right in the thick of things – and stay there. Maybe he could start fresh in another town, do as Marcellus did and find himself an honest job right from the start. Harold squirmed uncomfortably – somehow, this idea didn’t appeal to him at all. Apparently, it was River City for him… or nowhere.

So when Tommy called for the would-be music professor to show them the new step, he abandoned his clock-watching and did just that, pulling one teen after another into formation, until he spotted Marian standing with her mother and brother on the sidelines. She’d changed into a pink and white organdy to coordinate with all the ladies at the ice cream social, but she still looked just as stunning and unforgettable as she had in that delectable scarlet dress. The expression on her face made his heart constrict even more: modestly downcast eyes and a sweet, wistful smile as she watched him dance with all the other gals. Marian was not only lovely, but generous of spirit – she didn’t begrudge him his popularity, even though she clearly ached to be the one dancing with him. She deserved so much better than to be an overlooked wallflower.

Harold may not have been good for much, but he could certainly fix this. And so he did, spinning his current dance partner out of his arms and pulling Marian into them. And he kept her right where she was, resolving to himself that he’d never change partners again.

If any of the other ladies were displeased by his suddenly exclusive attention to the librarian, Harold didn’t notice, nor did he care. All he could see was Marian as he did the Castle walk with her, then the quickstep, then the new step. To his delight, she matched him effortlessly in both grace and aplomb – he moved more flawlessly with her than he ever had with any other woman, like they’d been made to dance together. But this wasn’t the first time they’d danced together, so why did he feel so dizzy and disoriented, like he’d circled a carousel one too many times?

Despite his strangely sentimental mood – what _was_ it about this librarian and her little Podunk town in Iowa that captivated him so? – Harold was never a man to ponder such philosophical questions like this too deeply. Especially not when he suspected the answers would be devastating to his cause. So the conman turned the full force of his focus to the moment, which was more than enough to distract him from the uncomfortable feelings that were making his heart pound and his pulse race regardless of his refusal to acknowledge them: Marian’s beautiful face aglow with sheer delight, the spark of electricity that zinged through him whenever their eyes met, how delectably soft and pliant her body was in his arms as he twirled her this way and that, the delicate lavender scent that was classically feminine but still somehow uniquely _her_.

As the Shipoopi drew to a close, “the girl who’s hard to get!” line did penetrate Harold’s befuddled consciousness – perhaps because it was a truth he was all _too_ aware of – and he couldn’t help teasingly waggling his finger at Marian as he pursued her in the dance. Unfortunately, her back was to him at the time, so he didn’t get to reap the charming rose-pink blush that surely would have bloomed in her cheeks if she’d seen his gesture.

But all sense of flirtatious levity between the two of them completely evaporated once the dance ended and he found Marian perched right on his knee, his arms wrapped around her waist while her hands clutched his shoulders. They’d never been this intimately entwined – not on purpose, anyway. When their eyes met and they exchanged another breathless stare, Harold dimly realized that he was just as undone by their enchanting new proximity as she was. And he hadn’t even kissed her properly yet! If he was this aroused _now_ , it was going to be really something when they finally made love in earnest.

However, when Harold lifted the librarian to her feet and tugged her toward the footbridge, his arm still wrapped firmly around her waist and his hand tightened possessively over hers, she demurred and delayed their rendezvous even longer. Though he was at the end of his patience and his baser proclivities were screaming at him to flatter and cajole and wheedle her into giving in and going with him _right now_ – he knew from the way she leaned into his embrace even as she balked that she wouldn’t say no if he pressed the issue – some deeper instinct urged him not to argue. If he continued to play the gentleman now, he’d reap even greater dividends later.

So after exhorting nothing but a promise of fifteen minutes from the librarian’s temptingly kissable crimson lips, Harold went to the footbridge all by his lonesome and waited. He was absolutely certain that despite her maidenly hesitation and nervousness, she’d come to him eventually. Because like Oscar Wilde, he didn’t truly believe in the existence of the Puritanical female. In his vast experience with the fairer sex, there were very few women in the world who weren’t at least a little flattered when he made love to them, and even fewer who objected to being kissed when he channeled the full measure of his charisma into courting them. And Marian Paroo would be no exception to this maxim.

As the conman waited for the librarian, his body thrumming with the excitement and anticipation of what was sure to be one of the most enjoyable consummations of his life, he allowed himself to dream that he _was_ a bona fide music professor as he conducted a phantom band in the reflection of the creek. It didn’t matter a mite to him that Marian was a bright-eyed, blushing, breathless baby-doll baby. He’d teach her every single thing she needed to know about making love to a man, and he’d relish the role as he never had before.

For the moment, Harold Hill belonged in River City. And the moment would have to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Harold’s musings about the nonexistence of Puritanical women were borrowed from the disreputable Lord Illingworth in Oscar Wilde’s A Woman of No Importance. Also, Robert Preston really did waggle his finger at Shirley Jones’ back near the end of the Shipoopi when everyone sang “the girl who’s hard to get!” in the 1962 movie – it’s the most adorable “blink and you’ll miss it” moment.


End file.
